


Drowned

by DaintyDuck_99



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Aged-Up Losers Club (IT), Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier Bickering, Eventual Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, Streddie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-01-25 05:31:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21351034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaintyDuck_99/pseuds/DaintyDuck_99
Summary: Stan, Richie, and Eddie awkwardly attempt to figure out their sexuality and polyamory in the confinement of a small town, featuring various bodies of water as another metaphor for being closeted.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier/Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak/Stanley Uris, Richie Tozier/Stanley Uris
Comments: 5
Kudos: 129





	1. The Quarry

The quarry is his own private version of a mikvah. Whenever his thoughts grow too loud, he plunges beneath the surface and wipes the slate clean—tabula rasa. Someone else—typically Richie—does the plunging for him. Stan loves and hates it. Richie’s hands scorch his shoulders. 

The water smothers everything. Time stretches like elastic peeking out of Eddie’s short shorts—no. Stan hopes, as always, that the messy nest will be dislodged for good. He chants mikvah, hope, like a prayer, and banishes the shivering dove of his soul. 

As Richie wrenches him out of the water and air rushes back into Stan’s lungs, he is more subdued. 

Eddie ducks beneath Richie’s arm to assess the collateral damage. He grabs Stan’s face, probably checking to see if he’s started to turn blue. “Jesus, Rich, take it easy! You could drown him!” 

Stan feels the jolt of Richie thumping Eddie’s back in his temples. He fastens his gaze on the small curl that sweeps over Eddie’s forehead to avoid the intensity of his eyes. 

“Chill out, Eduardo. First of all, I am extremely experienced in the art of asphyxiation thanks to your mom. Secondly, that’s kink-shaming, so fuck you.” Richie says jovially. Eddie sighs loudly enough that he might as well be protesting every single word that has ever come out of Richie’s mouth.

“Knowing you is a burden,” he mumbles before shifting his attention back to Stan, catching him off-guard as he peers into Stan’s eyes and manages to pin down his gaze. “Are you okay?” 

Eddie might discover the injury that he’s dead-set on finding, after all. Stan swallows. 

“I’m fine.” The words drop from his mouth like polished stones, as if he had been holding them there for a while. It doesn’t soothe the crease of concern in Eddie’s brow. It taunts Stan, the suggestion of another question, unspoken—are you sure? 

Stan gently backs out of Eddie’s grasp and manages to choke out a dig at Richie. Thankfully, they’re close enough to the shore that he can retreat over to Ben while Richie squawks, and Ben merely smiles and offers Stan the book he had brought.

He doesn’t see the way Eddie’s eyes follow the bob of his throat or the trajectory of his escape; he doesn’t notice that Richie’s hands are still on Eddie’s back.


	2. The Pool

Eddie refuses to let Richie get the better of him this time. Predictably, Richie goes for the first step in his “Messing with Eddie” playbook—he blows a raspberry at him. 

“C’mon, Eddie,” he whines, having already transitioned to step number two, “the water is fine. You’re not gonna get—I don’t know, rheumatoid arthritis, or whatever.” 

Before Eddie can deliver an impromptu lecture about A. the nonexistent hygiene of public pools, B. the clear-cut classifications of arthritis, or C. Richie’s general headassery, Richie goes silent. He implores Eddie with his large eyes, mussed curls, and slightly parted lips, a siren beckoning for company in the chlorine-riddled water. 

Fuck. Eddie doesn’t even know what step this is. He gropes for Stan, who is reading on a beach chair nearby, and clings to him like he’s a lifeboat. Or, more rather, like Odysseus when he was tied to the mast of his ship, only he is willingly tying himself down. 

Stan’s eyes wash over Eddie with a calmness in them that he wishes he could feel. Yes, Eddie is here—he didn’t have to lie to his mother and join the other Losers at the pool. Now that he’s here, though, he can’t quite bring himself to jump in. He doesn’t want to be his mother’s shadow and yet—

A cool hand grazes Eddie’s wrist, hurtling him back to the present. Stan does not have to ask if Eddie is alright; he knows that it’s complicated. 

“You can sit here and read with me,” he offers quietly. Eddie’s gaze darts between Stan and Richie. It’s odd that he’s being so quiet, still. Eddie hums noncommittally. 

Stan tries, “We can just dip our feet in?” He and Richie look at one another, silently negotiating their compromise. Finally, Richie nods. 

Ultimately, it’s nice for all of two seconds before Bev and Richie manage to get Stan’s book wet, but warmth flutters in Eddie’s chest all of the same.


	3. The Ocean

Richie sinks his toes into the wet sand, letting the waves lap against his calves. He’s grateful to his parents for allowing him to borrow their old van and bring the Losers out here. They’re only in Virginia; fourteen hours from home, but it feels like another planet. 

Eddie topples from Stan’s shoulders and into the water for the first time, and he comes up ranting at Bill, who merely grins from his perch on Mike’s back. Stan is quivering with laughter, and it all feels right.  
A smile spills from Richie’s lips. He’s always loved the water, but here, he truly feels free. 

Bev peels away from Ben to come grab Richie, and he lets her. Her eyes shine like the music they’d been fighting over in the car. If it weren’t for Eddie and Stan, Richie thinks, he could easily love her like Ben does, with the devotion of dogged sunrise. 

He can admit it, here, to the vast and mysterious ocean, where his secret is not so big. He recognizes the strength and fluidity of the current, and he admires it. Covets it. 

He knows that he cannot go back under the surface; he does not want to. He wants to ride this current for the rest of his life. 

When Eddie catches Richie’s eye, his grin becomes feral, fueled by the joy of being here with the Losers and with newfound confidence. Richie snatches Eddie out of the water, which elicits a yelp. He hoists him up and spins him around like a prize, cherishing the small laugh that he pries from Eddie’s chest. 

Before Eddie can catch his breath, Richie does the same thing to Stan, loving the way his curls gleam in the moonlight. He deposits Stan next to Eddie and gathers both of them into a hug. 

Eddie, bless him, is still incredibly short and gets squished between their chests. He elects to bury his face in Stan’s, the traitor. Maybe it’s to cool down, Richie reasons. After all, Stan tends to run cold, whereas Richie is constantly a furnace. 

Hesitantly, Stan’s lips graze the top of Eddie’s head. Emboldened, Richie smacks a kiss to Stan’s cheek, which earns him a perfunctory smack. 

“Feisty,” Richie teases. Stan flips him off in response, resting his chin on Eddie’s head. 

“You’re just jealous.” Eddie mumbles. He emerges from casa de la Stan, but his cheeks are still adorably red. Stan shifts slightly so that his chin is still sitting comfortably flush with the crown of Eddie’s skull. 

“Maybe,” Richie admits. He feathers a gentler kiss on the tip of Eddie’s nose. “Don’t tell Eddie’s mom, but I think I love you guys.” 

“You’ll break her heart,” Eddie deadpans, and Stan cackles. They both move to kiss Richie’s cheeks, and he could die a happy man. 

As the other Losers catcall, Richie embraces the roaring triumph of the ocean; he feels it in his chest, and he has never felt more alive.


End file.
